


Welcome to the Jungle

by blivengo



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Based On a D&D Game, D&D Backstory, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Fantasy, Gen, RPG, Roleplaying Character, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blivengo/pseuds/blivengo
Summary: A young ranger from far-off Chult makes the difficult decision to turn against her family, leading to a confrontation she never expected...





	Welcome to the Jungle

                Chult is a strange place full of strange people whose strangest quality might just be their insistence that Chult is a suitable place to call home. Of that motley lot, Zaidi Dawa is truly one of a kind. If you ever find yourself wandering the vast, dinosaur-thick jungles of this strange place – and may the gods help you if you do – keep your ears open for the melodic whisper of a wooden flute wafting on the winds; it just might save your life.

*******

                She didn’t want it to come to this – it was never supposed to come to this – but with the scent of flammable oil assaulting her nose, she knew it was too late to turn back now. The cages were all opened, the beasts, birds, and rodents were all set loose upon what passed for a city in the still-untamed wilderness of Chult, and now there was nothing left to do but ensure those cages would never be filled again. Zaidi Dawa nocked an oil-soaked arrow, struck her flint against the tip, turning sparks to flames, and sent the burning projectile into the heart of her former home. She’d meant to dash out immediately but couldn’t help lingering a moment to revel in grim satisfaction. She contemplated drawing not another arrow but her hand-carved flute to play a victory tune before fleeing then thought better of it – this wasn’t necessarily a celebration.

                She breathed a heavy sigh, stowed her bow, and reached for the door to make her exit when a shrill, reptilian cry billowed from somewhere below. Zaidi froze. “Gods be damned,” she muttered aloud before finishing in her head, _there must be creatures in a secret cellar_. With the fire she’d set already past the point of control, she thought, _I hope they used cheap wood_ , and then launched herself straight up, intending to come down hard on the heels of her boots, hoping to break through the burning floorboards into whatever mysterious room awaited below. Luck was with her as she landed, kicking down hard for extra oomph, and was subsequently swallowed by the splintered maw she made in the floor.

                “Well, this is surprising,” said a familiar yet oddly tinged voice from the gloom as Zaidi did her best to recover and gain her bearings. “I expected you to release the mongrels, but not to set the place on fire,” Grom Be’duraan, Zaidi’s adopted father, stepped into the dull firelight being cast through the hole the girl had left overhead. He looked up, appraising the increasing carnage nonchalantly, and then stared unblinking at his would be – should be – family. “Yes, the fire is an interesting touch,” he nodded, continuing to close the distance between them as Zaidi stood in shocked disbelief, wondering how the undead thing moving toward her was using her father’s voice, wearing her father’s skin. “More interesting, though, is you letting this weakling’s cry,” he gestured into the darkness where a metal cage rattled against the stone floor, “lure you down here…to your doom!”

                The Grom-thing lunged, thinking it had Zaidi off-guard, but was woefully wrong. She rolled into the attack while simultaneously drawing her dagger and slashing at the undead monstrosity’s calf before rising to a crouch and pivoting to face her adversary. “What are you?” she said, glaring.

                “What?” said the Grom-thing through snarls of pain. “Don’t you recognize your dear, old dad?” And with that it threw a concealed dart that caught Zaidi in the thigh before she could dodge to safety. The Grom-thing cackled. “You’ve ruined my plans, and you’ll likely ruin me, but the poison running through your leg is my last revenge!”

                In one smooth motion, Zaidi dropped her dagger, chucked the dart aside, drew her bow, and nocked another oil-soaked arrow. Tears stung the corners of her eyes – she’d later tell herself it was from the thickening smoke and fresh wound in her leg, but she knew better – but didn’t hinder her aim as she sent her arrow arcing up through the hole and into the flames with just the right amount of velocity to catch fire before falling back down to the cellar where it lodged into the neck of her still-cackling father. The undead thing’s cackles turned to gargled screams as it fell prone, gasping for breath and vainly attempting to put out its now-burning flesh.

                Zaidi’s mind raced: was that _actually_ her father? Had he been an imposter all along? If so, why? If not, how had this happened? She remained kneeling in dismay as the building above her began to crumble, threatening to block her easy escape, until the caged creature called again, this time more pleading than fearful. “Gods be damned!” she said, giving her head a clearing shake. She quickly stowed her weapons and made her way, mostly blind, toward the sound. Using her innate ability to commune with creatures, she sent out feelings of calm into the chaos.

                As her eyes adjusted, she could see the sad shape of a malnourished Pteranodon huddled against the far bars. Feeling the creature’s pain and fear, Zaidi gasped audibly, and the flying reptile cooed a tentative “chiwa” in reply. “Chiwa, huh?” the girl said, mimicking the sound. “Well, Chiwa, if you’re up for it, what do you say we get out of here?” As she said this, she unsheathed her dagger once more and began prying apart the cage’s lock. Just when hope was waning, the catch gave way with a satisfying _chook_ , and the large door swung open. Zaidi stepped back, closed her eyes, and put everything she had left to give into her next words: “Alright, Chiwa, you’re free.”

                She heard the rapid clack of talons on stone and felt the breeze as Chiwa rushed past and stretched its wings. Zaidi opened her eyes, intent on finding the way out Grom had planned to use, when the head of a beaked reptile nuzzled into her back. She turned, gently patting the creature, and bent to place her forehead against the Pteranodon’s. Through the bond that the two had formed, the creature sent a clear image of itself flying Zaidi to a secluded spot deep in the Chult jungle. Zaidi smiled. “That looks great to me, pal.”

                With a victorious caw, Chiwa beat its wings and lifted off from the stone floor of the cellar. Zaidi locked her arms around her new companion’s legs as she’d seen in the mental picture, and the two shot up through the nearly engulfed building and out into the wilds.

*******

                Later that night, as human and Pteranodon rested in their so-far makeshift treehouse, a salve of jungle plants and caterpillar mucus drawing out Grom’s “last revenge,” Zaidi played a somber melody on her wooden flute – the same wooden flute that Grom helped her carve and subsequently stayed up all night teaching her how to play. She played to his memory, to honor him, because, regardless of what he was or what he became, some part of him truly was her father.


End file.
